Right Now Groove

ANALOG CABIN: "For the kind of music that I do," Hunter says, "there's really no way to make it work on a corporate level."

Jazz guitarist Charlie Hunter sets up shop at The North Star.

by Nate Chinen

"X is for xylophone," says Charlie Hunter, by phone. "All right, two more to go. Can you hand me the Y over there? This is a lame one. What does Y stand for? Yarn. Yeah, that’s weak. That’s a weak representation of Y, in my book. Now, can you guess what Z stands for? Right: Zebra! You did it -- we’re all done with the puzzle." Then, shifting attention away from his toddler and toward his interviewer: "All right, I’m ready."

Yes, Hunter's a gatherer these days, harvesting puzzle pieces from the floor of his Montclair, N.J., home. During the course of this Friday morning, he'll manage to feed his 7-month-old and keep his 3-year-old entertained, all while endeavoring to answer questions about his worldview and career. But multitasking should hardly be surprising in an artist of Hunter's famously ambidextrous range. For over a decade now, he's been playing a custom instrument fitted with both guitar and bass strings, and two separate signals running through different amps. In other words, Hunter has been doing the work of two musicians, preternaturally well. And despite changes of record label and personnel, the guitarist has honed a consistent and unremittingly groovy ensemble sound.

"There are so many things I would love to do," Hunter muses, referring to ancillary projects. "But I've got two kids, and there are so many hours in the day, and there's only so much stuff I can commit to being out and away with." He's being hard on himself. In addition to fronting his own band (currently a trio with saxophonist John Ellis and drummer Derrek Phillips), Hunter co-leads Garage a Trois, a collaborative group with roots in the jam-band elite. In the spring, Ropeadope Records released his head-wagging quintet record, Right Now Move; in October they'll put out an album of improvised duets with the drummer/bandleader Bobby Previte and a DVD featuring the quintet at a party in Philly last year. And despite a fairly active touring schedule, Hunter has been holding down a weekly stand at The North Star since late July (Tuesday nights, through Aug. 19).

Hunter occupies a peculiar middle ground in modern music, somewhere between straight-ahead jazz and straightforward groove. His band has opened for the likes of Widespread Panic; Hunter and Previte will soon be sharing a bill with saxophonist Greg Osby. The guitarist is a household name, if not always a headlining attraction, in jazz circles and jam circuits alike. "I've always tried to create my own audience," he says, "[consisting of] people that I would hang out with. I can open for these big jam bands, and about 10 percent of their audience is ready for the music that I play. That 10 percent is kind of done with their teenage hippie-rock experience, and ready to go on to music that is improvised but a little more demanding of them." Then there are the guitar-heads and the jazzbos, coming to his music from their respectively obsessive worlds. But altogether it's a diverse and democratic fan base, constitutionally similar to the one built by Medeski Martin and Wood. "I just try to do what I feel is my responsibility," Hunter explains, "which is to reach the people I can reach with my music on an honest level. They're going to come from a variety of places. And I think that's because I'm trying to play music that reflects the time that I'm living in. Maybe those people are picking up on that."

Notably, the guitarist has avoided the mainstream spotlight, despite often being caught in its periphery. He figured prominently on D'Angelo's smash hit, Voodoo (Virgin), but opted not to splash in that album's wake. His final album for Blue Note Records, Songs from the Analog Playground, did feature the rapper Mos Def and Galactic frontman Theryl de Clouet, but in distinctly noncommercial settings. That album, incidentally, also introduced a then-unknown singer named Norah Jones. At a record-release concert at New York's Bowery Ballroom late in 2001, Jones joined Hunter's band onstage with an almost self-effacing diffidence; only her voice, on a sinuous, sensuous "Day Is Done," hinted at what was to come.

"I'm not really in the pop world," Hunter affirms, "and don't care to be. I have had many chances in my life to be involved with those kinds of things that would have made me vast amounts of money and fame. But I can't really stomach that world; it's not for me. I'm much happier where I am. I certainly would like to not have to work as hard as I work in, like, 20 years, just to make ends meet. But I would not trade it for anything else." He further notes that Songs from the Analog Playground hasn't sold any more copies today, in the aftermath of Jones' Come Away With Me, than when it was first introduced. The album's poor sales provided the last nail in the coffin of Hunter's Blue Note relationship, at the same time that Jones was taking off. But the end of that road marked the beginning of Hunter's path with Ropeadope, a sensible and, judging by Right Now Move, much more natural fit.

"For the kind of music that I do," Hunter says, "there's really no way to make it work on a corporate level. You really have to go and work it on the grassroots level -- like, on the neighborhood level almost. I mean, that's how I got my start in the Bay Area: playing every Tuesday night, for like three years. If you're at a place consistently, I just feel like that's a really great way to reach people that you otherwise would not be able to reach, and a way for them to have a kind of relationship with you and your music on a weekly basis. I like that, and I hope I can continue that in Philly, past just this one-month thing we have going on."

The Charlie Hunter Trio plays Tue., Aug. 12, 8 p.m., $10, The North Star, 27th and Poplar sts., 215-684-0808.